Nearly Mugged in Iloilo

As I normally do, last Saturday I walked back to the house from the office, taking lunch in a coffee shop a short distance away.  After leaving the coffee shop my route takes me through Jaro Plaza, which was laid out by the Spanish during their colonial era and was the centre for what was then the affluent city of Jaro (now absorbed into the conurbation of Iloilo City).  The former wealth of Jaro can been seen from the large and impressive old houses, now mostly in a state of disrepair, that line the plaza perimeter.  In the plaza's centre there is a small park, which at present is occupied by a market and fun-fair.   There is also a free standing church belfry tower (see left) that was apparently ruined during an earthquake in 1948 but which was later restored.  It's hard to tell the difference really as it could do with a bit more restoring as there are bits falling of it and a fair number of weeds sprouting from its masonry.

Jaro Bell Tower

On this particular day the plaza was buzzing with activity and preparations for a festival.  I'd read about an upcoming festival for Iloilo for the 22nd January but this one had taken me by surprise as I hadn't heard or read anything about it.  Of course, it wouldn't have occurred to any of my local staff to inform of this event as that would've involved some considered thinking.

When I arrived in the plaza at around 2:00pm the event hadn't started but was under preparation, despite the distinct threat of rain and the occasional very light shower.  The whole affair seemed to centre around a street parade of majorettes, local groups like the scouts and other organisations, marching bands, the police and military.  One thing that was in abundance was carnival floats carrying what I presume to be beauty queens  (and a few kings) featuring mostly small children.  This was something I didn't quite understand and seemed quite odd to me.

Kids All Made Up for the Parade

There was a lively and friendly atmosphere and I spent most of the time taking photos and smiling and waving back at the locals.

A Friendly Atmosphere

The parade kicked off at around 3:30pm and crowds lined the streets to wave and cheer them on.  At this point as I was standing at the back of the crowd taking photos over the heads of those in front of me, I noticed a guy stood behind me and somewhat closer than what I was comfortable with.  Bearing in mind I was already at the back of the crowd and a good deal taller than most, it seemed odd that he would want to stand behind me where he couldn't see what was going on.  When a moved a few feet to my left, he followed.  Suspicious of his intentions I moved away to another point in the plaza just to be cautious.  Not wanting to be paranoid I tried to put to the back of my mind the prospect that he was some scallywag up to no good.  In situations like this I'm always aware of the potential risk of pickpocketing and theft and take precautions to place valuables in hard to reach places.  At the time I was wearing a camera backpack with a spare camera in it but figured it was safe enough zippered up in the top compartment, and my wallet was in a buttoned up side pocket of my combat trousers rather than the more accessible back pocket.

I moved to another location opposite the bell tower and was happily taking snaps and waving at those taking part in the carnival, who as always were excitedly happy that someone was taking their photograph.  Sudden I felt a tugging at my backpack.  I spun round and there were two scowling, glowering youths behind me (different to the one earlier) with guilt, although not a hint of shame at nearly being caught red-handed, written all over their faces.    Immediately securing the camera I was using at the time from being snatched by wrapping the strap around my wrist several times, I then whipped my backpack off to check it.  They had succeeded in half unzipping the compartment containing my reserve camera and had it not been through a combination of their impatience and a somewhat sticky zip, I would have lost it.  I also consider myself lucky as I've heard of backpacks being sliced open with razors rather than messing about with the pesky zip.  No doubt the razor comes in handy for those victims who may attempt to resist any persuasion to share the contents of their backpack with other members of the sticky-fingered community.

What irks me about this incident is the fact that whilst I was at the back of the crowd lining the parade route there were people milling all around so someone must have seen what was going on but clearly decided not to intervene or assist.   This made me feel like that there was a conspiracy in that because I was a westerner I was fair game and I could afford to have my own personal possession pilfered, and that stealing from me didn't matter.

Likely Suspect But All They Wanted Was Their Photo Taken

I've experienced a similar mindset before when working in Ghana, West Africa.  I'd seen a man beaten unconscious by a mob and then tossed into river that was in flood, so that if he wasn't already dead when he hit the water, he was most definitely going to drown.  And this was for the crime of stealing a pot from what was basically a mud hut.  Whilst it may seem uncivilised and a harsh punishment for stealing a pot, I can understand that in a society where houses have no doors or windows it is essential that theft is positively discouraged and punished in order to maintain a civilised society, otherwise anarchy would very soon follow.  However, whilst stealing a pot from a mud hut wasn't in anyway tolerated, theft on a wholesale scale from a western company, such as the one I worked for, was deemed acceptable, if not expect and was practised by just about everyone we employed.  Again, whilst everyone of our workers knew it was going on, not one person wanted to be a whistle-blower or make a stand against it.  Even our house was burgled and whilst most of my clothes were stolen they had the decency to leave me a clean shirt and underwear for the next day but wiped out the any company owned property - an inside job if ever there was one.

There's Never A Policeman Around When You Need One

In Jaro I was left wondering whether they were just taking pot luck that I'd have something in my backpack worth stealing but my instincts told me that this wasn't the case.  Earlier I'd taken the camera out to use and put it back so I figured that I was being cased and identified as a target, which gave me a horrible feeling that I was being watched all the time. Then there was the possibility that they would come back for a second, and possibly more aggressive attempt.

After securing my backpack I moved away to another area but could not longer relax and felt as though I couldn't stand still.  As a result couldn't enjoy myself.  Or concentrate on taking photographs.  I couldn't concentrate on the days events but rather had to concentrate wholly on who was behind me and who was watching me.  I may have been lucky in that the attempt to rob me was a passive one.  The thought that a more determined attempt might involve physical violence, and bearing in mind that guns are prevalent here, I made the decision to give up and go back to the house and sit and listen to the barking dogs.

Final score:  Free and fun tourism in the Philippines - 0     Low life scum - 1

Next weekend there's huge event in Iloilo City called the Dinagyang Festival and I can't decide whether to:

1. Go and potentially get robbed and possibly murdered in the process;
   
2. Go but place a highly venomous snake in my backpack.
3. Stay at home and listen to the barking symphony.
4. Go somewhere nice for the weekend - i.e. Singapore.